


hour of no regrets

by freloux



Series: a sticky sweet romance [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Come Fetish, Dirty Talk, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-04
Updated: 2017-09-04
Packaged: 2018-12-23 17:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11994543
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freloux/pseuds/freloux
Summary: “JesusChrist, Betty,” Jughead groans.





	hour of no regrets

Archie will take any excuse to throw a party. It’s kind of nice, actually, to have a friend who’s up for literally whatever. (“Literally” in its proper usage that is. Jughead would die before anyone found a stupid grammar mistake on his blog.)

Anyway, this time it’s Daylight Saving Time of all things. Archie’s calling it a party to celebrate the lost time - an hour of “no regrets” since it’ll be gone anyway once the clocks change. When he’d talked about it at lunch, Veronica rolled her eyes, Betty called it romantic, and Jughead just wrote it all down for posterity.

Jughead slouches into the party wearing his hat and a hoodie - his usual emo uniform - and runs into Veronica. They nod in acknowledgement before she slinks off to make out with Archie or something. Cheryl is lurking in a corner nearby, which surprises Jughead since she’s always held herself so far above the mere mortals that she goes to school with. She doesn’t see Jughead so it’s just as well. He’s free to go find a beer without fear of burning up or something since the way she stares at people tends to have that effect. Jughead notices that she’s busy making out with some random guy that looks way out of his league, so maybe this is an hour of no regrets after all.

He wanders over towards the kitchen where there are red Solo cups all over the counters, scattered in between cans of PBR and Bud and Coors that are tipped over and dripping onto the floor and into the sink. Someone brought boxed wine, and there’s even Jack Daniels sitting next to a half-empty bottle of Absolut. The name has been scratched up so it says “Abso-slut” in shaky Sharpie.

There’s magnet poetry on the fridge that spells out the kind of shitty sex jokes that take Jughead right back to middle school. He opens the fridge door in search for a drink that hasn’t been tampered with in some way, and finally finds a thing of beer. He doesn’t recognize the name - it’s something hyper-local, who knew Archie was such a sophisticate - but at least the can is unopened so it’ll do.

When Jughead shuts the fridge door again, he notices that Betty is standing nearby. She’s wearing the tightest, most bodycon dress he’s ever seen, much less on someone like her, and sky-high stripper heels. Her makeup is still the same, all subtle and natural, with a pale kiss of shiny pink lipgloss, so the dress really speaks for itself. Or yells, rather, since it’s silky magenta fabric that clings to her tits. 

Jughead swallows. His skin feels buzzy and weird, like the party is suddenly set to background noise, and his hands have gone clammy around the beer can. All his memories of Betty start speeding through his head. Bent over, twisted up, panting, screaming, dripping his come and wanting more, more, _more_.

“Hey,” Betty says, walking over to give him a hug. Her heels click, faltering, but not because she can’t walk in them - amazingly enough, she can, even though he’s definitely never seen her wear heels before - but because Archie’s parents’ kitchen floor is just sticky and gross right now.

“Hey’” Jughead returns, pulling her in for a hug. Her tits press up against his chest, round and full and warm. “Nice dress,” he manages to say when they break apart.

“Thanks,” Betty says. “Some party, huh?”

“Yeah,” Jughead says. He clicks open his beer can, waiting for the fizz of escaping air before taking a sip. It’s nice and cold, with a unique maple syrup overtone that actually works. He can definitely picture a little microbrew making it.

They go silent for a moment. Jughead honestly doesn’t know what to say. They’ve already gone through the things that people say just to make conversation at a party like this. And truly, what _do_ you talk about with your childhood friend turned fuck buddy??

Thankfully, Betty has a better idea. She grabs his hand and he sets down the beer can to let her drag him upstairs. They pass Archie on the way and Jughead manages a wave before letting the noise and the heat of the party swallow him back up.

One of the bedrooms upstairs is already occupied, so they head for another one. Betty shuts the door and locks it just in case - they haven’t exactly gone public about their little romps, so why start now?

“Jesus,” Betty mutters, giving him a very tonguey kiss. “I thought you’d never come.”

Jughead is proud of himself for resisting the urge to make the obvious joke. He kisses her back and they just stay like that for awhile, kissing, letting it be innocent for now. (Even though his dick is starting to twitch heavily inside his jeans and he’s pretty sure she can tell.)

“Why, exactly, are you wearing that dress?” he finally asks.

Betty laughs. “Hour of no regrets, right?”

“Right.” Jughead swallows. “About that.”

She looks at him - in the heels, she’s at his eye level - and lifts an eyebrow.

“Turn around.”

Betty turns and sets her hands on the door, bracing herself back for him. Jughead skims his hands down her dress, lingering at the curve of her ass, and tugs up the skirt to reveal her underwear. Tasteful little cotton since Betty’s never been one for thongs, but about to get totally ruined. There’s already a dark stain of her arousal right at the crotch.

Jughead pulls her underwear down and works himself free of his jeans and boxers. His cock arcs up and he holds it in place, just stroking it slowly. “What do you want?” he asks, as much an erotic invitation as it is a genuine question.

Betty swallows thickly. “I thought about - you fucking me -”

“And?” Jughead squeezes the tip of his cock, which pushes some precome out of his slit.

She shudders. “And giving me so much of your come that -” She moans, swaying in her heels. “ - that I’ll feel it during the whole party, just dripping out of me.”

“Jesus _Christ_ , Betty,” Jughead groans. In response, she just pushes herself back even farther. Jughead moves closer and rubs the fat head of his cock up against her pussy. It’s something he’ll never get tired of seeing: his cock opening up her folds and pushing inside until he’s flush against her. She sighs, pleased, once he’s completely inside, and her pussy squeezes at him reflexively. His cock is in so deep he can practically feel himself tenting her cervix.

He holds her, hands steady on her hips, and just lets her sit back on his cock. Betty whines, clearly wanting this hard and fast, but he’s gonna hold off on that for now. Instead he starts thrusting rhythmically, slowly. Her pussy makes deep, wet, sucking sounds as she grips his cock fiercely inside her before reluctantly letting it go.

The fabric of her dress ruts at his stomach, a smooth silky glide. “You little slut,” Jughead whispers against her neck. “Dressed up like this, just to get a load of my come.”

“Uh-huh,” Betty responds, shaking with arousal even though his hands are still tight on her hips. “I wanted it - so bad -” The last word comes out as a harsh breath like he’s fucking it right out of her. Jughead pushes hard inside her and she gasps, rocking against him, her pussy nearly losing hold of him since she’s so goddamn wet. She whimpers, twisting a little on his cock. “Need your load inside me -”

Jughead stops thrusting and she pants desperately. He slides his left hand down from her hip to let it settle right on her clit. “Say please.”

“Please, oh my god, please -” Betty moans, nearly crying out from the denial of pleasure. He’s not even rubbing her clit, just leaves his fingers there to slide on it feather-light.

“Well, since you asked,” Jughead returns with a smirk that she can’t see. He picks up his thrusts again, then almost stops because she’s coming - hard. Her pussy presses on his cock and he can feel a gush of wetness that soaks his hand. He rubs her clit, curious, and she squirts again.

Betty gasps, and so does Jughead. She’s definitely never done that before. It makes her pussy feel over-sensitive, quivering as he finally comes. There’s so much that it can’t even fit inside her. It just spills down the length of his cock to drip out thickly, sliding down her inner thighs and spurting onto the floor. Yet there’s enough that still sits warm and tucked up deep - she’ll be able to hold onto it, let it slide out of her slowly over the course of the party just like she wanted.

Jughead pulls out of her, panting, and sets himself to rights. Betty puts her underwear back on and adjusts her dress like nothing ever happened.

“Aren’t you going to -” Jughead asks, gesturing to her sticky thighs and the mess they left on the floor.

Betty shakes her head and smiles a bit devilishly. “I like feeling you everywhere. Let someone else wonder what happened.”

The rest of the night is surreal. Jughead finds that microbrew again but is only half-concentrating on the taste. Instead he’s focused on Betty. Just knowing that she’s somewhere at this party soaked in his come makes him want to - well, he doesn’t know what, exactly. Write steamy poetry, maybe, with clever details only Betty would recognize. Let someone else wonder what happened.

Jughead is just about finished with the beer when Archie comes up and thumps him on the back. “Wild party, dude!” He smiles cheerfully in that blissfully ignorant, dopey-sweet way that all the girls love him for. Then he leans in conspiratorially. “Did you score? Please say yes, this party would be a total waste if no one did.”

“Yeah,” Jughead replies. He takes a final sip of the beer. “You could say that.”


End file.
